


Supernatural Horror 2018

by Sweetie_T



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_T/pseuds/Sweetie_T
Summary: A one-shot for every day in October. Spooky scenarios with happy(ish) endings.(On unexpected hiatus :-/)





	1. The Beast, Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks you’re crazy, but you swear your little sister’s new dog is more than it seems.

Claire was so excited when she brought him home. A fuzzy little thing with floppy ears and big brown eyes. Everyone who met him fell instantly in love.

Everyone except you.

You had always had a sense about things. You always knew when something just didn’t seem right. And this new dog made alarms klaxon in your head.

There was nothing obviously nefarious about him. Nothing you could pinpoint.

Not at first, anyway.

And then one day you were late getting home from school. Usually you got home first, unlocked the door, and just as you finished making snacks Claire would come in, excited to cuddle her dog and tell you about her day.

But that day you had been held up by a teacher wanting to discuss your creative writing paper. Apparently she was ‘concerned’ at the level of paranoia you seemed to be exhibiting in your essay. (You figured she just had it out for you, that essay was some of your best work.)

By the time you got home you were a good half hour late and you were expecting Claire to be in tears, sitting on the front step, locked out. Shivering and alone.

But what you came home to was so much more disturbing. She was somehow safe and warm inside the locked house. (You knew for a fact it was locked, you always triple-checked). She was working on her homework and munching on snacks.

The dog was just sitting there, a suspiciously innocent expression on his smug little face.

And there was more.

On several occasions you could have sworn you heard two separate voices coming from Claire’s room, but when you banged open the door it was always just her, sitting alone on her bed. And the duplicitous hound would be sprawled on her rug, tongue lolling in blatant mockery of you.

You began to track your sister and the dog, keeping your distance while watching their every move.

You never realized how boring your sister’s life was.

She did the same thing every single day. Got up, walked the dog, went to school, came home and walked the dog again. Homework, dinner, shower, bed.

Every. Day.

After about a month of this you were starting to think maybe your mom and teachers and friends were right about you- maybe you _were_ paranoid.

You decided to give it until the end of the week and then, if nothing out of the ordinary happened, you would grudgingly reassess your mental stability.

Monday through Thursday were mind-numbingly routine. Friday started out that way as well. After school you and Claire finished eating your snack and she left to walk the dog. You gave them five minutes head start and then set off, hot on their trail.

You caught up to them at the park, and hunkered behind a large rhododendron bush to watch.

They were alone today, just the two of them.

Claire hopped on the swing.

The dog stood behind her.

And then he shifted… into a man.

You knew it! The whole time! As he began to push her on the swings you began to plot your moment of sweet redemption.

You got out your phone, turning on the video recorder and pointing it at the smiling man and your laughing sister. If he shifted again your mother would have to believe you. No more rolling eyes, no more talks of sending you to therapy.

As you basked in the anticipation of your moment of glory, you almost missed when the man’s head snapped up. He swiftly shifted back into the form of a dog. And seconds later a group of young hooligans came barreling from between some trees. They were laughing and shoving, visibly impaired.

When they spotted her they started to taunt your sister, who had gone still and tense on the swing.

“What’s a sweet young thing doing out here all by her lonesome?”

“A pretty little thing like you should be more careful. You could get hurt.”

“Come here, princess we’ll keep you nice and safe.”

You could tell these men were bad news. Your fist tightened around your canister of pepper spray and you prepared to rush to her rescue, when one of them made the mistake of trying to touch her hand.

The dog tore into him with abandon, wrapping his jaws around the offending arm, snarling ferociously and using his entire body weight to wrestle the wailing idiot to the ground.

The others wasted no time in running off, clearly terrified by the obviously unhinged beast that had forcibly subdued their friend.

When things were somewhat calm again Claire put her hand on the dog’s bristling scruff, speaking softly to him. He backed away from the perp slowly, a thick, shining trail of saliva from his bared teeth to the man’s cheek breaking as he did. He kept his small but mighty body between the threat and your sister, his droning growl a constant warning to anyone who would dare harm her.

And as the aggressor tripped over his own feet in a rush to get away, you noticed there wasn’t a single drop of blood anywhere on him.

Claire hugged the dog, patting him affectionately before getting back on the swing. He shifted back into a man and started pushing her once again.

And then he looked straight into the camera you held forgotten in your hand, and smiled gently.

You realized then you had the entire incident recorded. Incontrovertible evidence. More than you could have ever hoped for. You weren’t paranoid after all. You were perfectly sane and you had been right all along. And now you had the means to clear your name.

Once and for all.

You watched your sister for a moment, hair flying in the wind. Laughing and safe.

And you deleted the video.


	2. The Beast, Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a knock on your door. When you open it you are face to face with your uncle… who you buried last night.

The night was cold and the storm raged along with your sorrow. You chugged from his flask with abandon, every word he had ever said spinning in your head. Every time you had ever made him angry, sad, disappointed.

Every time you had ever let him down.

When his flask was empty you refilled it. Over and over again. The constant stream of liquid spirits doing little to calm your tortured soul.

Didn’t stop you from trying.

The storm was so violent you almost missed it. The persistent and solid thumping on the front door.

At last the sound broke through your anguish and you stumbled over nothing on your journey to answer the incessant knocking.

You grasped the handle and tore open the door, your blood running cold at what you saw.

It was him. Your dead uncle Bobby. Here, in the flesh. No longer burned and buried in the backyard.

You gaped at him, barely comprehending. Had he come to berate you one last time? To rail against you for wasting your life? Had he come to punish you?

“You gonna let me in, kid? After all, this is my own damn house.” The glaring reality of his gruff bluster shook you from your stupor and you moved aside so he could enter, scuffing and stomping the bottoms of his boots on the entryway rug. Just like he’d done a thousand times before.

He made his way to his favorite chair and sank into it in his usual way. He gestured with the bill of his ballcap to the chair beside him. The one where you had always sat, motionless and silent while enduring seemingly endless scoldings and lectures about one thing or another.

That must be it then. He wasn’t done telling you what he thought of your pathetic and dubious life choices.

You perched yourself uncertainly in the chair beside your dead uncle, the dread like ice in your stomach as you waited for his words. They always came slowly, softly. But that never made them hurt any less.

“So, kid… we need to talk.” He started slowly. Softly. You forced a nervous swallow down a tight and swollen throat.

“Sure, Uncle Bobby.”

He sat in silence and stillness, staring at the fire. The pause stretched until you found yourself leaning toward him, inspecting him for a breath, a blink, any sign of life.

A tiny, sorrowful sigh was what you got. He took a deep breath in preparation for his sermon.

But to your surprise, you ended up speaking first.

“Please, Uncle Bobby. I don’t need to hear any more.” He looked at you in surprise, but you were too busy staring at the toes of your shoes to notice. “I know what you’re gonna say.” You emptied his flask in two long swallows and ran a hand over your face before speaking again. “I’m not what you wanted me to be. We both know it. All I ever did was let you down. I’m your biggest failure and your biggest regret… and if you’re here to send me to the other side… I never been more ready to go.”

Your eyes finally met his and he stared at you for a solid minute, his face an unreadable mask.

When he spoke again his voice was tight. Weary. “You’re right kid.” Your heart sank, but you weren’t surprised. “You’re not what I wanted you to be… I wanted you to be as strong as me. I wanted you to follow in my footsteps. But you had a head clear full of other ideas.”

He shifted in his seat, leaning closer and trying to catch your eye.

“You ain’t strong as me, kid. You’re stronger. And you never did follow in my steps, you made your own. And you’re right. You ain’t who I wanted you to be. You’re so much more than I ever dreamed.” By the time he was done talking you were looking at him again, the tears that had been eluding you since his impromptu funeral now streaming down your face.

“I don’t ever expect you to forgive me for being a curmudgeony old idjit. I don’t deserve it. And kid… if you ever die without a fight… I’ll kill ya. The world ain’t ready to lose you. My biggest regret is that I never had the stones to say all this when I was alive.”

He stood and dragged you to your feet, engulfing you in one of his famous bear hugs. You savored it, knowing it would be your last. You closed your eyes and breathed him in.

And when you opened them again…

He was gone.


	3. The Chase, Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are peacefully jogging one morning. Until, to your horror you realize, you’re being chased.

The birds were singing happy little songs as the sunlight began to brush the tips of the trees with gold. The grass smelled clean and fresh, damp and sparkling with morning dew. The air had a bit of a nip, your breath making little white puffs in the early chill.

The steady rhythm of your sneakers on the paved path lulled you into a place of peace. The place you chased when you ran, the work of your body lending clarity and calm to your mind.

This was your time. The rest of your world was chaos and tension. Toiling and sacrificing for everyone else.

This was yours. The whole world was yours when you ran and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The music in your earbuds always helped keep your gait steady. Your shoes hit the ground in perfect time with the beat.

Except, this morning, something didn’t sound quite right. Instead of steady and sure footfalls in time to music, a heavy staccato rudely interrupted your zen.

You stopped for a moment, jogging in place so as not to lose your hard-earned runner’s high. You checked your earbuds, thinking there must be something wrong with them.

It never occurred to you that there was someone behind you.

A flash in the corner of your eye. A glimpse of a large stranger barreling toward you. Your phone hit the pavement, forgotten as you bolted.

You ran with the speed of the hunted. The predator hot on your heels. A sudden memory came, unbidden. Chasing ducks at the park when you were a child. You would run at them with all your might and at the last moment they would scatter, feathers whipped into the air as they fled, terrified.

You remembered how much you liked the feathers. You played in them like snow, spinning and laughing in your summer clothes. You hadn’t paid much attention to their eyes at the time, but now they were all you could see in your mind.

Wide and afraid. Whites showing all around as they panicked and raced off, trying with all their might to escape certain doom. Hearts pounding until it felt like they would burst…

You jumped behind a tree, breath tearing through your lungs. The pain in your legs and chest received barely a thought as you peeked around the thick column of rough bark.

To your utter despair, the stranger was still there. Running all-out. Coming fast. Relentless. Straight for you.

After indulging in one last deep breath you took off at a sprint. As fast as your legs would carry you, though it seemed you were running slower now.

This park had always been your safe place. Your hallowed sanctuary. You valued its solace, the isolation it provided. But now you wished with every fiber that you had chosen a park overcrowded. Strewn with litter and children and even large aggressive dogs.

You mostly wished you weren’t so completely alone.

A stabbing pain shot through your left calf, so sharp and intense you would have screamed could you have drawn breath. Your steps faltered but still you ran, stumbling and lurching for your very life.

You turned and saw the stranger. Closer than ever before. And gaining on you.

Another memory. Another set of wide and desperate eyes. It was years ago. You had been alone, driving back from a family vacation and he had run in front of your car. You couldn’t possibly have stopped in time. For an instant you each stared into the other’s soul. The executioner and the condemned. The sound of the impact on your bumper was…

You were flying. You barely felt the collision as the stranger slammed into you. You braced for the landing but it never came. He twisted your tangled bodies so that he took the force instead.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you to just stop like that. Are you ok?”

He brushed back the hood of his jacket and you saw his face. It was open and kind, dark hair and hazel eyes. A look of concern twisted his features as he sat up, dragging you upright as well.

You could do nothing but stare, draw ragged breath and try desperately not to throw up.

You looked down as you felt him press something into your hand. Your newly cracked phone… and your wallet.

“You dropped this.” He said, a little half-smile making his eyes twinkle. “I was just trying to give it back to you.”


	4. The Changed, Shifter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your boyfriend is not who he seems. Not even close.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance. One week ago today you had met him, your soulmate.

You had bumped into each other in a coffee shop. Literally. You had spilled your latte down his front and he had given you his most charming smile and told you not to worry about it.

You had offered to pay for his dry cleaning. He had offered to buy you another coffee.

You had been inseparable ever since. You had dinner every night, texted constantly throughout the day. And last night, for the first time, you had stayed over at his place.

Nothing untoward had happened. You talked and cuddled all night, wrapped in a cozy blanket in front of a crackling fireplace. You woke up in the same spot, stretched, and realized he was no longer with you.

“Babe?” You called. You heard a loud bang and a strange voice coming from the bathroom. The voice absolutely did not belong to your boyfriend.

You detangled yourself from the covers and stood, grabbing the fireplace poker, prepared to defend your true love from whatever intruder had broken into his apartment and whatever terrible fate was currently befalling him.

You crept toward the bathroom and grabbed the handle, twisting it harshly and throwing open the door with a battle cry worthy of an epic film.

“AHHaaahh!!!” Your roar turned into a terrified shriek as you came face-to-face with… Yourself?

You dropped your weapon, your head started spinning and for some reason the whole bathroom decided that was a good time to lurch sideways.

When you opened your eyes you were staring up into your own concerned face. You closed your eyes again to block out the impossible sight, but the other you tapped your cheek until you looked up at yourself again.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it together. I really did… I didn't want you to find out this way. Or at all, really…” The other you rambled.

“Where is my boyfriend?” You rasped.

The other you closed their eyes, taking a deep breath, and gesturing to the bathtub. “I shed him in there. He was just some guy who bumped into me on the bus. I didn't hurt him. I never hurt anyone… I’m a shifter, baby. I can become anyone I touch. That body is gone but I’m still me. And I still love you.”

Looking deep into you own eyes, you found yourself believing every word your love had said. And to your surprise, you still loved them back.

You leaned up and kissed them, deeply. It took a moment for them to recover from their shock, and after a good long kiss back they pulled away, smiling at you shyly.

“So, you’re okay with this? With… me?” They asked you, timidly.

You sat up, your arms around the other you’s neck.

“Just one question…”

“Anything.”

“Do you think someday you could shift into Misha Collins?”


	5. The Summoned, Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You summon a demon.

The first time was an accident. You were just a baby, babbling in your crib. You must have uttered the correct syllables in the correct order because he found himself standing in your nursery, gazing down at your chubby little cheeks and bright wide eyes, gurgling adorably up at him.

He remained undecided about how he should handle you (with the snap of his fingers he could so easily snuff you out) when you treated him to your beaming toothless grin and a sweet little giggle.

From that moment on he was lost.

He checked on you frequently and when you were old enough to remember he taught you his name.

At first you would use it when you were afraid to sleep. He would sit with you and hold you and sing Scottish lullabies until your eyes closed.

As you got older you would call him when you were lonely or afraid. He would talk with you for hours.

You grew up, and you slowly forgot about him. You finished school, got a good job, got married. You were content with your life. Happy.

You barely thought of him at all anymore.

One night you were sitting up in bed reading, your spouse sleeping soundly beside you and over the baby monitor your infant’s deep and even breathing brought you peace.

Abruptly the rhythm of your child’s breath faltered and then they began babbling. You smiled softly and listened to them contentedly play with sounds and tones.

“Ggggblcwowee”

A familiar voice, gentle and amused with the hint of an accent sounded through the baby monitor.

“Hello, Love.”


	6. The Doll, Rowena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find a voodoo doll... of yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok apparently I suck. I’ve been dealing with some yucky real life personal stuff. I have most of these written but not finished, so that’s what I’m working on now. I will get them done, even if it takes me until December! ❤️❤️❤️

Your “aunt” Rowena was an angel. She must have been. Before you had met her you were one eviction notice away from homelessness, struggling to keep your floundering business afloat. 

When you met Rowena you were having the day from hell at your rare book store but you waited on her patiently and pleasantly until the moment she left, when you had burst into tears.

She came back in for a business card, found you blubbering and demanded to know what was wrong. It took persistence for her to get you to open up, but you eventually told her all about how your significant other had left you in debt and you were having trouble making rent on the book shop, the cramped office of which doubled as your residence.

She apparently saw you as a kind of pet project and put all of her energies into giving you encouragement and pep talks, bringing you home-cooked meals when your fridge was bare, and always buying more than her share of ancient and rare books.

You believed she was also your good luck charm, seeing as a few days after you met her your ex sent you a check for their entire debt plus some, your business had boomed seemingly overnight, and the cozy apartment above your shop became available to rent at a surprisingly low rate you could afford.

 

Today you were visiting Rowena’s apartment for the first time. You had just netted your first real profit at the bookstore and she had invited you over for tea to celebrate.

The first thing you noticed when she escorted you into her place was how ornately it was decorated. Rich tapestries, delicate sculptures and stunning paintings covered every surface. The second thing you noticed was how very cold it was. You started shivering immediately.

“I do apologize, Dear. It’s been a week and my utter dolt of a landlord has neglected to find the time to fix the furnace. It’s as cold as a witch’s… Well…” She smirked slyly and let her sentence dangle.

You sat with her and enjoyed some tea, chatting and occasionally rubbing your hands over your arms to keep them from freezing.

The combination of the cold and the tea brought to mind that you needed to use the loo… urgently.

You excused yourself politely and as soon as you had finished your business you felt yourself warm up dramatically. You figured the furnace had finally decided to kick back in.

You came out to find Rowena settling a heavy shawl around her shoulders, carrying the empty teapot to the kitchen for more hot water. You offered to help her but she waved you off, so you sat back down.

It was then you noticed something bright poking out from her seat. You were naturally curious, so you leaned over and picked up the little thing.

It was a tiny doll. Its features matched yours. Same hair, same eyes. With a shock you realized what it was. You had seen these dozens of times in the pages of the occult section in your bookstore.

This was a voodoo doll. Of you.

And for some strange reason it was wearing a tiny sweater, in your favorite color.

You stripped the clothing from the doll and you felt the chill rush in, stronger than ever.

You heard Rowena getting ready to come back out and you jammed the sweater back on hurriedly, accidentally poking it in the belly in the process. You stifled a gasp at the surprise jab to your stomach and settled the doll exactly where it was when you had first found it.

Apparently your aunt was a witch.

But she took good care of you.

And she made really good tea.


	7. The Compulsion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feel someone... or someTHING... trying to take over your body.

You remembered the first moment so clearly. You were sitting at home watching television and the next thing you knew you were no longer alone inside your head.

 _She_ was there.

Her presence was like a roiling sickness in every inch of your body. Your first instinct was to purge her, however you could, but she held fast. She tried with all of her might to claim you, limb and bone, for her own.

She just didn’t count on you being so damn stubborn.

It had been a kind of frantic dance ever since. A back and forth. Most of the time you took the lead, although if you were tired or stressed she sometimes broke through.

On one notable occasion you “woke up” to find yourself sitting at your kitchen table sipping hard liquor from the bottle. You didn’t own any hard liquor. When you asked her where she got it she just laughed.

Over time you developed a kind of uneasy alliance. You let her out occasionally to play and she stopped torturing you from inside your soul. It was almost nice.

 

Today you were having quite a challenging time at work. You had made a minor error on some paperwork that had caused a giant headache, and your boss was livid even though it had been his job to do the work in the first place, before he pawned it off on you. You had spent all morning biting your tongue, being screamed at and berated.

By the time lunch rolled around you were beyond ready to get the hell out of there. You headed to your favorite little cafe and ordered your usual lunch, the barista yet again catching your eye.

You had been harboring quite a crush for months now but you had never quite found the courage to engage in more than polite cursory conversation.

In your head you felt the demon tense and prepare to strike. You stiffened.

_Meg, this is my favorite place for lunch. I swear if you strip naked and murder someone I will…_

_...Relax before you sprain something, Sweetness. I’m saving the nudity and homicide for next weekend._

You felt the _snap_ as she slammed into your body, leaving you planted firmly in the backseat of your consciousness. You had to admit, the break was nice.

She leaned over the counter a bit and gave the barista a charming smirk and a wink.

Your voice left your lips but they weren’t your words. “Hey, Darling. How about I buy you a coffee… to go?”


End file.
